Like many communities in our State, Hermes has no school busing system. Each morning, a convoy of SUVs, Minivans and Sedans invade school campuses to drop off kids. The same happens in the afternoon. For each dollar the State educational system saves not having school buses, parents spend perhaps five to ten dollars on gas, not to mention the time away from their work.
We decided we would break rank from this system and created “Confident Kids Caravan.” Chloe and I went to the homes of each rising fourth and fifth grader in our large, developed neighborhood promoting the idea of biking five minutes to the town’s bus terminal and taking the county bus to and from school each day. Some parents looked at me like I was the most irresponsible parent in the world for wanting my ten-year-old daughter to take the bus. Others thought it was a great idea.
As it turned out, the County bus was so under-utilized by Chloe’s elementary school that the bus schedule had gotten out of sync with the school bell schedule. But upon contacting the bus company, we saw a willingness to take quick action, and the bus schedule will be fully repaired before September is over. We have slowly been building the group of kids biking with Chloe. Chloe and Veronica’s younger brother David make up our core. A boy across the street has joined us. And once the bus schedule is corrected so that the kids are not cutting things too close, we plan to recruit again and expect to find both the excited parents and the horrified parents.
We’ve been fortunate that the same bus route to Chloe’s elementary school also takes Philip to Hermes High School. Philip has been riding his bike with Chloe and David. And the presence of a High School student makes all the parents more agreeable to the idea. Nonetheless, David’s father and I have been trading off the task of riding the bus with the kids and picking up the other at the elementary school.
Getting on the bus put me into the world of Hermes High School. A whole crowd of High School students take the bus regularly. Some of them have formed a small clique of black clothes and skateboards. The one girl in the skateboard clique brings and acoustic guitar to school each day. Once settled, she begins to strum and play some light unplugged music.
Toward the front of the bus, Chloe and David sit in eager anticipation of the school day. Philip sits in the middle of the bus and tries to get just five extra minutes of sleep. And in the back the skateboard clique talk somberly and listen to the guitar. At the stop just ahead of the High School, a man in a wheelchair boards. He says a few kind words to David and Chloe and then unpacks his breakfast of banana bread and cream cheese. He tells me he is going to the local college campus to do his morning weight-lifting which he does five days a week. His arms are perhaps twice the diameter of his legs.
Before we know it, the bus has arrived at the High School and the majority of riders disembark. Some of the High School kids need to remove their bikes from a rack on the front of the bus. Philip disappears into the crowd heading up hill to the campus and the bus engines engage. The man in the wheel chair promises David and Chloe he will pull the cord ahead of the correct bus stop. Until the schedule correction, David and Chloe will need to get off the bus one stop ahead of the official school stop. It involves crossing an intersection, but reduces to walk time in half plus adds the three minutes not spent behind the caravan of non-bus-riders being dropped off at school. David worries he will be late to class, and Chloe asks me to walk with her.
We disembark and our brisk walking outruns the slow-moving caravan. Once we cross the intersection, David runs ahead while Chloe and I gently ascend a pathway onto campus. We arrive comfortably ahead of time. Chloe gives me a big hug and I head down to the parking lot to catch my ride with David’s father.
Tomorrow, the kids ride on their own.
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